


Like Master, Like Dog

by Anonymous



Category: 101 Dalmatians (1961), 101 Dalmatians (1996)
Genre: Bestiality, Cunnilingus, F/M, Multi, Other, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24096439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Roger is away for work and Anita finds herself alone with Pongo.
Relationships: Anita/Pongo, Anita/Roger (101 Dalmatians), Anita/Roger/Pongo, Roger/Pongo
Kudos: 56
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely going to hell for that one. Cheers.

Anita startled when she emerged from the en-suite bathroom. Her hand went tight around her towel in sheer surprise and she suppressed a little shriek.

"Pongo!" she exclaimed. "Get down from the bed, you rascal!" 

Pongo obeyed the order at once, neck hanging down between his legs as he hopped off the mattress. He sat by the foot of the bed, appropriately chastised.

"Aren't you supposed to be on your morning walk? And did you open the door?" she asked, intrigued. Pongo seemed to perk up in pride at that. Anita couldn't help a fond chuckle as she closed said door. "Roger trained you to be way too smart."

At his owner's name, the dog's ears drooped again and he looked down with a little whine.

Anita sighed. She sat down on the bed so she could pat his head.

"I know. I miss him, too. He'll only be gone one more week now."

Roger's work had taken an unexpected, excited turn after his first song had turned out to be a hit, and he'd been mandated to write songs for an American children's show. He'd accepted, not knowing the studio would ask him to come showcase them in Los Angeles. 

He'd been gone two months now, working on rewrites, supervising the recordings and all sorts of other things Anita couldn't remember because Roger talked very fast when he was excited about his work.

It had left her with the kids and the dogs, and she felt very blessed that all of them behaved so well. She was also very lucky the house staff provided her with moments such as this one, when she could breathe a little while everyone enjoyed some fresh air in the park and she enjoyed some peace and quiet.

Anita came back to herself when she felt Pongo lick her hand, as if to remind her she'd been petting him and hadn't finished the job. She chuckled again and resumed the gentle stroking. Pongo had taken Roger's absence the hardest out of all the dogs.

"Not long, now, alright? He'll be back soon."

With a pat to his spotty flank, Anita stood up and went about setting the bed straight again, now that Pongo had messed it up.

She was leaning over the foot of the bed, fiddling with the flowery overthrow, when she felt it and gasped: a lukewarm, wet point nudging against the apex of her thighs.

She froze, completely taken aback, her heart racing in her chest.

It nudged her again, trying to dig deeper, pushing her legs further into the mattress.

Her head whipped back to see nothing but Pongo's bottom half, as the dog's head was indeed buried behind her, under the towel she'd wrapped around her body, unmoving.

Something hot coiled and uncoiled low in her belly, and she felt herself grow slicker, like her sex begged her to open to the forbidden, delicious sensations. She was mortified. She was beyond aroused.

They made up a frozen tableau, as if each of them, human and animal, were waiting for the other's next move. God, Anita's body knew what it wanted; it had been two months since Roger had had her, since her body had sung under his hands. It seemed her body was done waiting. _She_ was done waiting.

She widened her thighs a fraction. The change was so subtle, only someone as close as Pongo was could have seen it. He retaliated with a shift of his muzzle and an encouraging whine.

Anita stifled a soft moan with the palm of her hand as the other made a fist in pristine white sheets. Was she being seduced by a dog?

Slowly, she put one knee up on the bed. Pongo drew back, and for a moment she thought she'd spooked him; she felt both relieved and disappointed she might have put an end to the shameful moment, but when she stilled again, she looked behind her. Pongo was still there, sitting on his haunches and panting lightly, staring at her through slightly glazed eyes.

"Good boy," she whispered. He took it as the permission it was. 

He stood back up and resumed his place behind her. With no preamble, he stuck his nose where she was most fragrant and gave a long lick up her slit. Anita's arms almost gave out at the shot of pure pleasure that zinged through her.

That was but the beginning; Anita gave Pongo free reign. 

He licked at her relentlessly, his great big tongue swiping everywhere, catching every drop of juice that leaked out of her, dipping the tip inside when the nectar didn't flow fast enough for his greedy tongue.

"Oh God, _yes_."

Anita was falling apart, like estranged from her own body as it endured a merciless onslaught of sensations. Shame warred hard against undiluted pleasure even as she arched her back for Pongo - for _her husband's dog_ \- to give him access to all of her.

When his clever tongue first lapped at the tight furl behind her entrance, Anita gasped and almost toppled forward to prevent it from happening again. Except, she realised… it felt good. She shifted a little, confident the dog was too involved now to draw back, and closed her legs so her little hole was the only accessible part of her.

Pongo didn't disappoint: he latched onto the tiny patch of skin like a man - a dog - parched. Anita rolled her hips to help his tongue reach as deep as possible.

"Faster, faster," she pleaded under breath, half delirious. Of course Pongo couldn't understand such complex orders. She whined into the sheets in frustration and opened her thighs again, letting him back into her newly drenched slit. "Good boy," she moaned, as loud as she dared.

Anita let him take control again. She buried her face in the covers and let the waves of pleasure wash over her to the rhythm of Pongo's tongue gathering her slick, slurping sounds loud in the bedroom, obscene and delightful.

When she turned her head to the side to breathe again, she saw the tip of the dog's tail wagging like crazy. She laughed, glad he was obviously enjoying this as much as she was. It startled Pongo, and the dog drew back and barked once, a happy sound indeed.

Anita dropped on her side to laugh some more, mad with satisfaction and unfulfilled desire both. Hair everywhere, towel undone, her sex swollen from Pongo's ministrations, she must have been a sight. She let her hands wander over her naked body as Pongo kept on wagging his tail and whinging by the bed, wondering how his strong tongue would feel over her sensitive nipples.

Without thinking about it, she patted the bed twice.

"Come on, up, boy!"

Well-trained as ever, Pongo obeyed the command - only to start sniffing and licking at Anita's body as soon as he landed on the mattress. He was like a child let loose in a toy store in his abandon and utter delight. Anita let him be, enjoying the tickling too much to deny him this treat.

She did feel like a treat, so intent was he on enjoying all of her. Then he actually pushed at one thigh to be granted access to the main attraction and Anita felt it would be easier to get on all fours again. Properly, this time.

Pongo barked again. In approval, she guessed.

Anita's torso collapsed at the first touch. The sweet torture resumed as the strong muscle toyed with the supple, sensitive flesh of her sex, a crescendo of pleasure she never wanted to end, Pongo's breaths brushing over her little hole as he plunged his tongue inside Anita to taste her.

Then he stopped.

She didn't even get to wonder what was happening before she felt him mount her. The feel of his engorged, already wet dog cock poking around her backside clumsily was somehow shocking. It was so different from Roger's, pointy and less large. Even the feel of his body over hers was disconcerting, furry and so much warmer.

Anita was frozen again, unsure what to do: throw Pongo off before she crossed that last line or let them enjoy this? 

In the end, Pongo made the decision for her.

Her brain was still churning when he plunged into her, front legs anchored around her slim hips. He gave her no time to adjust, just drove into her with a force and determination she'd never known before. Anita saw stars. So Pongo's girth had nothing on his master's, but he made up for it with sheer speed, his ballsack slapping against her most sensitive spot again and again.

She could feel his seed drip out of her, down her thighs to the bed. She'd have to change the sheets now, she thought mindlessly. It felt amazing, being used like this. Like a bitch. It brought a perverted smile to her face as Pongo pistoned into her, panting into her ear.

Anita knew about knots. Knew what they were for and the logistics of them. Lost as she was to the pleasure, Pongo's knot expanding and dragging against her insides still came as a surprise.

She was moaning non-stop, half growling even as Pongo used her, and when he finally stilled, as deep inside her as he could go, his knot snug in her sex, she hit her peak as well. She fluttered around him madly as he spilled spurt after spurt of his seed into her, warmth slowly filling her up before trickling down her thighs.

"Good boy, Pongo. Good boy," she wheezed.

Anita wasn't sure her lungs would ever recover from such an intense moment. She slumped to the bed, unwillingly dislodging Pongo where he was sheathed inside. She allowed herself to feel momentarily disappointed, promising herself she would examine the why of it later, when she wasn't still seeing stars from such a vigorous pounding.

As for Pongo, he simply sat there and licked his cock clean. She watched him, putting off the moment she would have to get up to go take another shower, wondering if such a thing would happen again. She wasn't sure whether she wished it would or not. After all, she hadn't meant for things to get this far. Truth be told, she hadn't meant for any of this to happen. 

It didn't matter, she decided suddenly as Pongo stood up and came up to excitedly lick her face. She laughed. She still had an entire week to figure things out


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger's back, now, and things can't be the same.

"Pongo! Pongo, down, boy!" Roger's voice came through their bedroom door as Anita reached the top stair, her arrival muffled by the carpet.

The command reminded her so strongly of the first time the dog had had her that there was an answering rush of wetness between her thighs. She forged on and ignored it: now Roger was back. Now she didn't let Pongo have her anymore.

She knocked on the door once before letting herself into the bedroom.

"Just me," she said with a smile before she took in the scene before her. Her eyebrows shot up.

Pongo was on his hind legs, his front paws fruitlessly trying to wrap around Roger's middle as he humped the air, his red cock hanging out, useless and dripping clear liquid all over the floorboards. Her insides clenched like they were volunteering to welcome it.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, a little breathless, a flush slowly climbing up her cheeks.

"Um, yes, um- That is, Pongo was- He wanted- Oh for pity's sake, _down_ , boy! Not now!" Roger cried, as flushed as Anita was.

 _Not now_? As in, an aggravated "we'll deal with this later," not a firm "no"?

Anita's eyebrows went up again, her mouth opening in a perfect "oh" though the sound never made it past her lips. Roger spluttered when he noticed it, his arms flying about as he got tangled in explanations that grew less and less comprehensible the longer his wife stayed silent. At least it managed to dislodge Pongo.

Anita was still coming to terms with the implications of Roger's slip-up, her husband's stuttering revealing far more than his bad excuses, when Pongo made his way to her and snuck under her long skirt.

Thoughts of Roger lying prostrate as Pongo savagely pounded into him evaporated when she felt that nose prod at her sex again. Her thick underwear was the only thing that saved her from an indecent moan, but her breath hitched clearly enough to stop Roger's babbling.

They stared at each other soundlessly for a few seconds, her hand on Pongo's head above her skirt. She wasn't sure whether she was keeping him away or in place; she hadn't felt that talented tongue on her flesh in two weeks now, and she missed it. She was ashamed she seemed more addicted to a dog's cock than to her own husband's, no matter how well-endowed he was.

"You, um-" Roger started again, but Pongo's tongue slithered out and she moaned, shutting him up again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen at all," she tried to appeal to him, finally pushing Pongo's head away.

"When?" Roger asked, but there was no anger in his voice, just curiosity. "Heel, boy."

Pongo went back to his master's side and sat down. His cock was still hanging out and leaking, so he bent over and took care of that, the slurping sounds lewd in the silence. Anita swallowed and pointedly looked anywhere but at the dog.

"When you were in America. He just- came to me and I- I let him. Oh my God," she breathed, burying her face in the palms of her hands, as if the enormity of her actions had finally caught up to her. "Please, don't take the children away."

"Anita," he said, impossibly gentle. "I won't. Do you think Pongo just felt randy that day and took it out on you? You know what was going on in here before you came in, don't you?"

"I don't know!" she cried, shaking her head. She knew what she thought she saw, and Roger's spluttering was pretty damning, but in the end it was nothing but a theory.

"Yes. Yes, I think you do know." A short metallic noise briefly broke the silence. "Come here, Pongo. That's it, good boy."

Was that- a moan? 

Anita's eyes flew up. Her insides clenched again.

Roger was sitting on the edge of the bed - their marital bed, where they'd conceived their children and where she'd let a dog fuck her - trousers around his ankles, his long legs splayed apart as Pongo sat between them, lapping at his master's stiffening prick with enthusiasm. Roger's head was thrown back in ecstasy, his Adam's apple sticking out as he voiced his pleasure. All the while, his hand never stopped petting Pongo's head.

"That's it, good boy. So good, Pongo…"

Anita felt her legs tremble with how much she wanted to join them. She was jealous of Pongo, who got to enjoy Roger's formidable cock, and she was jealous of Roger, who got to enjoy Pongo's tongue. She took an involuntary step forward then stopped herself.

"Come here," Roger said, his free hand reaching out to her.

Anita crossed the room and slipped her hand in Roger's, dazed. He simply drew her closer and tugged her down into a filthy kiss, full of tongue and spit and teeth. This was Roger in the throes of passion, and he was only getting his cock sucked.

Anita broke away to see what Pongo was doing to drive her husband so wild, but he seemed to only be licking at him with the single-minded focus she knew well by now. He did concentrate more on the spongy head of him, lapping up the clear liquid that spurted from it.

"You're loving this," she remarked, awed, as she carded her fingers through his thick hair.

"It's- better with you here," he managed to articulate, his eyes boring into hers.

She beamed at him. "Can I join, then?"

"I'm not sure I'll last very long," Roger admitted with a grimace, but she shook her head fondly.

"I've already climaxed twice just looking at you," she said.

"Really?" he frowned.

"No!" she laughed, and he huffed his disapproval. "But it won't take much." That seemed to placate him some, so she kissed him once more before lowering herself to her knees, slipping between his legs beside Pongo.

"Anita…"

"Hmm?" 

She looked up at him, then, hoping her face conveyed all the love she felt for him this very moment, and nudged Pongo away momentarily to lick a broad stripe up Roger's cock. It was strange, tasting the dog's saliva on him, decadent and taboo but perfect. It punched a delightful sound from Roger's throat.

Pongo took the new arrangement in stride. His tongue slipped lower, laving his balls and the fine skin behind them, making him buck into Anita's mouth while she tried - and mostly failed - to bob her head in time with the dog's fast rhythm. 

Roger couldn't last. Feeling both their tongues on him, it was too much. He spent in Anita's warm mouth in powerful, salty spurts, breathless noises ripped from his very core as he came.

Anita was about to swallow the impressive load when an idea struck her. She unsealed her lips and let his seed coat his softening shaft. Pongo honed in on the treat right away: he latched onto the oversensitive cock with renewed vigor, cleaning off every trace of his release. 

Roger moaned in agonized pleasure. He let himself flop back onto the bed, an arm over his eyes. Anita patted Pongo's flank in thanks and joined Roger, plastering herself to his side.

"I love you so much, darling," he mumbled.

She chuckled. "Are you okay? Do you want me to stop him?"

"No need," he said with a mischievous smirk. "Down, Pongo. Come here."

Pongo complied immediately, hopping up by Roger's head and licking at whatever part of his face he could reach, his wagging tail beating a frantic rhythm on the pillows.

"Good boy," Roger laughed, gently pushing the dog's head away.

"I think he's a little frustrated," Anita pointed out with a grin.

"Hm?"

"He probably had another outcome in mind, considering what you were doing when I interrupted…"

"Oh! You're right!" he exclaimed, lifting his arm from his face to look between his two lovers. "I'm sorry, Pongo."

"How does it usually work, then? Does he… you know? Or do you?" A new blush was stealing over her cheeks, she could feel it.

"He does. I fear I'm too big for him, I wouldn't want to hurt him," he replied, patting Pongo absentmindedly. "Besides, he doesn't seem interested in doing it like that."

"How did it start? Between you two?" Anita asked, propping her chin on her husband's chest, rubbing it lightly on the soft material of his shirt.

"It was before I met you. One day I was, you know, relieving some stress in the way bachelors around the world do, and Pongo was there, of course. At first he only put his head on my thigh - I was so surprised I nearly kneed him in the head - but he didn't move an inch. So I carried on. I think I was too far gone to be bothered to send him away, but at one point I looked down and- I swear, Anita, he was looking right at me. So I slowed down, and I angled my cock towards him to see what he would do, and he picked up his head like he was happy and licked the tip. I know it sounds insane to say but- things progressed naturally from there."

Anita stayed quiet, pensive after learning this new tidbit of information about her husband. Imagining him that day brought her back to her own first time. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to alleviate the throbbing between them.

"It doesn't mean I love you less," Roger added, perhaps concerned about her silence.

"Oh, no, Roger! I would never think that. It's different, that's all. It's the same for me, you know? I love you," she said, reaching over him to scratch at Pongo's neck. The dog whined a little, pushing into her hand. She chuckled.

"Do you want him?" Roger asked.

"How do you mean?"

"Right now. Do you want him? He'd like that, I think, and you're all flushed, like when I'm about to get to the good part," he grinned.

Anita leaned over to kiss his mouth, then looked at Pongo. "What do you say?"

He gave a joyful bark and spun around once, making both Anita and Roger laugh.

"He's on board, I think!" 

Roger sat up and made himself comfortable against the headboard, placing a strategic pillow behind him to get comfortable and enjoy the show while Anita took off her shoes, stockings and underpants, leaving everything else on. Pongo bounced about beside her the whole time, whining like he couldn't wait another minute to be inside her.

Indeed, as soon as Anita had gathered her skirt up and climbed onto the bed facing her husband, Pongo covered her. His forelegs locked into place even as he fumbled to find her entrance. At least Anita got a few seconds to brace herself for the invasion.

As usual, she melted into it the second Pongo's cock penetrated her, her entire body going lax against the brutal pace he set for them. She moaned, every sound matching his fast movements. He was perfect.

When she picked up her face off the bedding, she suddenly remembered Roger. Roger, who was watching them, enraptured, like they were the most extraordinary thing he'd ever seen. Anita extended a hand towards him, needing him to be a physical part of this.

He threaded their fingers together and held on firmly, anchoring her as Pongo thrusted inside her, uncaring of such human needs. His knot grew inside her and she smiled, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. She was on the precipice before they'd even started, and she'd been truthful when she'd told Roger it wouldn't take much to push her over it.

Like the first time they'd come together, Anita didn't need to touch herself to reach her climax; simply feeling Pongo's cock spit inside her was enough. She trembled through her orgasm, never once letting go of Roger's hand.

She was dimly aware of his voice talking in calming tones. She wasn't sure whether the words were for her or for the dog, but the soothing cadence worked either way.

Knowing he was here and she was safe, she let herself fall onto her side the second Pongo slid out of her, and allowed herself to succumb to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"I want to see him with you,"Anita whispered in Roger's ear one night as they laid entwined, on the cusp of sleep.

He turned his head and gazed at her in the semi-darkness. 

"Are you sure?"

"I want to see how you look when he takes you," she confessed hungrily. "I want to see if it's different than when he takes me."

"Alright," Roger breathed after a few moments contemplation, and then sealed the deal with a simple kiss.

Thankfully, the opportunity arose not long after their conversation. Anita's nerves were fraying she wanted it so bad. She could scarcely think about anything but Pongo's red cock plunging into his master at lightning speed while Roger howled his pleasure. It drove her to distraction.

When they finally found themselves in the safety of their bedroom, the rest of the house blessedly quiet and empty save for the three of them, all it took was the door clicking into place for Anita to release a breath she felt she'd been holding for days.

Pongo's tail started wagging, so fast his entire bottom half seemed to shake with it. Anita burst into laughter, some of the tension ebbing away, Roger joining her when he caught on to the reason for her hilarity.

"Good boy, Pongo. Yes, you know what's going to happen, don't you?" she said softly.

"He seems pretty happy," Roger agreed.

"So am I," Anita added, biting her lip.

"Me, too." Roger's gaze was fond as he took her in.

Finding each other in the middle of the room came organically. They disposed of their clothes, letting them drop at their feet as they kissed and caressed and seized all the flesh they could. Anita was breathless by the time Roger laid his big hands on her buttcheeks and spread them.

"What are you-" she started, weak from desire.

"Pongo, come here, boy," he said as he patted her bottom to draw the dog to it.

A couple of seconds later she felt the first lap, right over her tight furl, and then Pongo's course was set. Her knees would have buckled if she hadn't been hanging onto Roger's shoulders. She undulated with the movement of the dog's tongue, pushing against it as Roger's rigid cock rigid left wet trails against her soft stomach.

"This was supposed to be about you," she managed to gasp through the jolts of pleasure.

"It wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me to leave you with nothing," he remarked, readjusting his grip on her bottom to grant Pongo better access.

Anita whined. "I want to see you two." She ripped herself from both of them, and grabbed Pongo by his collar to keep him away. "Get on the bed. Now," she told Roger, her tone leaving no room for disobedience.

"Alright."

She watched him as he arranged the bed the way he would need it, marvelling at an efficience obviously born from extensive practice. She felt a pang of jealousy, knowing she'd missed out on so much pleasure in the first years of their marriage.

She became a bit puzzled when Roger took something from his bedside drawer, but the moment he spread himself out, legs wide, hole exposed, she understood the purpose of the vial he'd retrieved. She drank him in as he reached behind himself and put a glistening finger inside him. Pongo yanked on his collar with a whine; Anita sympatized: she could feel herself grow damper between her legs. Her husband kept at it, whimpering a little as he worked his hole open, his hips snapping forward every once in a while, the head of his cock dragging against the bedding.

"Is it… good?" she rasped out.

"So good. So good," he breathed, unfocused eyes on her naked form.

After what felt like forever, he put the stopper back on the vial, a bit breathless, and laid his torso down on the bed. Shiny fingers pulled his buttcheeks apart and he nodded at her. 

She released Pongo. 

The dog didn't have to be told what to do: he dove onto Roger's hole with gusto, his tongue flying over him so fast she could barely see it, like he was trying to make up for the time he hadn't been allowed to enjoy his treat, like he was afraid someone would take it from him.

Roger whimpered, pitiful noises she'd never heard from him before and that made her want to explore this new part of him. Pongo sure seemed to relish the experience, covering the dusty cleft in saliva, licking at the spattering of hair around the hungry hole.

"Come on, Pongo, up. Good boy, come on," Roger panted, tapping the space just above his butt to signal where he wanted him.

Pongo's cock had come out of its sheath, as shockingly red as usual, leaking over the mattress, his fluids mixing with his master's. A sharp longing pierced through Anita but she pushed it down: this time wasn't about her.

She stepped closer. She hadn't realised she'd stayed rooted to the spot throughout Roger's preparations, enthralled, but now she needed to see from up close.

She knew the feel of Pongo's warm, furry body on hers, knew exactly how cradled Roger would be feeling. What she didn't know was how pleasurable taking the dog cock _there_ would be, if Pongo would be as relentless with Roger as he was with her.

Roger readjusted on the bed so it'd be easier for his companion to find his entrance. He did, pretty quick, and Anita immediately got her answer: Pongo's instinct remained the same, no matter how tight the channel. He pounded into Roger at the same merciless pace he'd pounded into her.

"Ohhhh, yes yes yes yes yes."

Roger kept on chanting and moaning at particularly hard thrusts, his body going rigid under the onslaught, his toes curling and his hand shooting to his cock, pumping it almost aggressively. 

Anita felt like her own body was liquefying, becoming pure lust as she watched her husband lose grip with anything that wasn't Pongo, his dog pounding away like he knew exactly what his master required.

"So good, Pongo. Don't stop, oh, good dog, you feel so good."

Roger babbled as Anita took the last step to touch both of them; one hand stroked her husband's thigh as she set the other above Pongo's tail, urging him on. It worked, and Pongo's thrusts seemed to reach deeper and become more shallow.

"Anita!" Roger cried, his voice going high. "He's so deep, so deep… so good. Best dog, Pongo, don't stop."

"Is he knotting you?" she asked in wonderment.

"Yes, yes…" he panted. "He's so big."

"I know," she whispered, sliding a hand down his thigh in a soothing caress. "He's going to spend in you, darling."

"Yes, yes… Oh God, yes. I want it so much, it's so good, so big."

It didn't take much longer for Pongo to push one final time and fall still. Once the sloppy noises of their coupling had died down, all that was left was Pongo's loud panting and the little whimpers Roger was making.

"Can you feel him?" Anita asked softly. She felt so light-headed it was strange to think she hadn't even been the one who'd been had.

Roger nodded, his face mashed against the sheets. "Every squirt. He's filling me up so good. Good boy, Pongo. Good boy."

Anita sat by her husband on the bed and watched him idly pump his cock, less in a hurry now. The angle was all wrong for her to do anything to help, but the sight of Roger, deeply sated and thoroughly fucked, was enough.

Well, almost enough.

After a couple of minutes she started squirming a little, until it registered through Roger's haze.

"You haven't come," he frowned.

"I couldn't," she explained sheepishly. "I was busy watching you."

Roger groaned. "Anita. Come here."

"Here, where?" she chuckled, and so he did his best to show her exactly where he wanted her with the limited range of motion he had at the moment.

She ended up sitting cross-legged in front of him, and she took full advantage of the position to slip her fingers through his dirty blonde hair, raking her short nails against his scalp, sparing a good scratch behind Pongo's ears as well.

"Spread your legs for me, and come closer so I can put my mouth on you," he said, a silly little smile on his lips.

"Are you sure? Right now?"

But even as she asked, concerned moving about too much would spook Pongo and possibly hurt Roger, she did as she was told, slipping closer until he was looking right at the core of her.

"Darling, you are _drenched_ ," he breathed reverently, his eyes shooting up to hers.

Before she could reply, he leaned back down and started laying open-mouthed kisses on her thighs, drinking all the juices that had run down her legs. Then he latched onto her sex hungrily, going straight for the spot she prefered, his pointy nose digging into her clitoris in the most exquisite manner each time he tried to go deeper.

It didn't take long for Anita to explode into tiny shards of pleasure. Roger kept on groaning these satisfied little noises like he was partaking in the most delicious feast, and they rippled along her entire body. He followed soon after, and she knew it both by the way he growled into her and by Pongo's small whine as Roger clenched around his cock. Her own walls contracted again, the pleasure flattening her on the mattress.

"Thank you," she said, breathless. 

" _No,_ " Roger said with enough conviction that she picker her head up to look at him, his face painted with her juices. "Thank _you_. I love you." She flopped back with a smile.

"I love you, too." Then, after a beat, "I love you, too, Pongo."

"You're the best dog, boy," Roger agreed.


End file.
